


First

by Oxers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogwarts Era, M/M, Multi, One Shot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-27
Updated: 2013-10-27
Packaged: 2017-12-30 16:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1020739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oxers/pseuds/Oxers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever forgets that immortal first kiss. A collection of one-shots, varied pairings.  I'll be updating the tags as I go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Severus & Lily

**Author's Note:**

> Uploading from my old FF.N account - this stuff is *old*, folks. Or the first three chapters are, anyway. I got the sudden urge to continue this old project, so everything after that point will be new material. If there's a pairing you'd like to see, let me know! I am happy to cater to everyone.

"So you add the powdered goldenrod, then stir clockwise until the whole cauldron starts to froth-"

"It doesn't need to froth," said Severus. Lily glanced over with a question on her face. "It takes longer, but if you just let it simmer on a low heat for half an hour or so, the batch is somewhere between twenty to thirty percent more potent. Just be careful not to touch it. Let it sit."

"The book doesn't say anything about that, Sev," Lily groaned. "The professor didn't say anything about that. My notes don't say anything about that." She waggled her notes in mid-air for effect.

"The book was written by a buffoon," Severus explained.

"It was written by our professor!"

"Our professor is a buffoon."

"Sev." Lily was laughing in spite of herself. "You can't just call him a buffoon. He's old! He knows way more than we do."

"Fine, he is an educated buffoon," Severus amended. The tiny smile that warmed his eyes was something reserved just for her. "The simmer works better. Trust me."

"If you say so," was Lily's resigned response. She scratched out a line on her notes and scribbled his advice in tiny, perfect script beside it. Severus' smile grew a little wider. She'd have the best swelling potion in Gryffindor, hands down.

Study hall was an oasis. It was a respite from the pace their lives were beginning to adopt, and it was Severus' favorite part of the day. For one uninterrupted hour, it was just the two of them. No outsiders. No professors. None of her new friends were there to swoop in and take her from him like a flock of chattering, mindless birds. This was the time Severus took to revel in Lily's presence, to whisper words only she was allowed to hear and to reassure himself that he was still her number one. Her best friend. Her favorite. She was getting so busy with other people and sometimes he wondered. Sometimes he worried, and sometimes it scared him. But they still had study hall.

And it was almost over.

"You wanna go to Hogsmeade this weekend?" asked Lily as she began rolling up her parchment. "Dad sent me some money and I thought we could go to the Three Broomsticks or something."

Severus lit up – or did whatever vague approximation of lighting up he was most capable of, anyway. "Yeah," he responded, "yeah, that sounds good. Sure." In truth, Severus had no interest whatsoever in going to Hogsmeade. He had only gotten his permission slip signed because Lily had insisted on it, and his first trip to the village had proved disastrous. Crowded, noisy, crawling with people he had no desire to see or speak with – he would much rather say inside and find new ways of calling attention to the potion master's ineptitude. But Lily had asked him. And wherever Lily was was where Severus wanted to be.

So they began the process of gathering their things and clearing their table, grumbling their lamentations about the rest of their day. On Thursdays, this was where their houses parted. Lily was off to charms and it was time for Severus to suffer through herbology, whether he wanted to or not. (He didn't.) He normally would have sulked his way through the remnants of the afternoon, but the week was almost over and the prospect of a whole Saturday together, just them, cheered him marginally. So it was that Severus listened attentively as Lily worried about an upcoming exam, slung his satchel over his shoulder and followed her into the hallway, happy to trot along beside her as long as he could.

The worst thing about Hogwarts – aside from all the students, anyway – was how drafty the corridors could get. As soon as the weather turned, ice cold winds would whip through the passages and freeze anyone unlucky enough to be traversing them straight to the bone. Halloween was fast approaching and a brutal chill had already set into the air; that winter was going to be a cold one. Severus and Lily both clutched their cloaks tightly around themselves as they walked, sticking close for warmth.

"You'd think they could enchant the hallways to be a little less glacial," Severus complained. "The rest of the castle stays warm."

"Maybe they do it on purpose," Lily suggested. "You know, to wake the students up between classes. Like a cold shower."

"Only Gryffindors would need a cold shower to pay attention for an hour at a time."

Lily laughed. "Now that's not fair. I have seen plenty of Hufflepuffs snoozing through history."

"Well that's because-"

But no one would know what Severus thought of the sleeping patterns of Hufflepuffs, because at that instant a roughly child-shaped object shoved its way past them and knocked Severus clean to the floor. He yelped and Lily squealed, but it didn't dissuade the peal of laughter that followed. When Severus pushed himself up, hair flopping into his eyes, he was met with the four people he least wanted to see.

"Oops," Potter was laughing. "Sorry, Snivellus."

"It's okay, James!" Black chimed in. "Maybe if he falls and breaks his nose, it'll be a little straighter. Sure can't get any more crooked."

Their laughter echoed down the hall and burned Severus to the bone. Lily flew to his side, eyes blazing, but the damage was done. He shook with fury as he began gathering his books.

"James Potter!" Lily bellowed. "What is wrong with you? You apologize properly right now!"

Amidst the snickers of his obnoxious little posse, James held up his hands for them to quiet. As the laughter began to still, he bent down before Severus with a serious expression on his wicked face.

"Severus, I'm sorry," he said.

Severus glared up at him with a deep and unwavering loathing.

"I'm so, so sorry that Evans pities you enough to hang around you all day."

That was the last straw. Severus was on his feet, wand out and pointed in Potter's direction; a hex shot out, missed and ricocheted off the stone wall. James scrambled up to respond in kind. In a brief flurry of activity, the boys found themselves in an ugly standoff.

"You don't talk about Lily!" Severus snarled. "It's none of your business!"

"Did I hit a nerve?" Potter spat.

Severus raised his wand to reply, but Lily's arms encircled his.

"Don't, Severus," she warned. "Don't. He's not worth it."

Severus shook with rage. It flashed black in his eyes, barely restrained. He and Potter were both breathing hard, frozen, locked on each other, and no one dared to move. Black was sneering. Pettigrew looked thrilled. And when someone finally spoke, it was Lupin.

"Hey, James, come on," he said. "Lily's right. It's not worth it. You and Sirius already have detention, remember? Don't waste your entire weekend on him."

It was a moment or two before Potter's posture relaxed. His scowl melted into a smirk, his wand arm dropped to his side and he shook his hair rogueishly out of his eyes. "Whatever," he drawled. "Let's get outta here, guys. Go flying or something. See you later, Lily."

"Sod off," she snapped.

The boys, with the exception of a guilty-looking Lupin, burst into another round of laughter and turned to saunter away. That laughter rang in Severus' ears long after they had disappeared down the corridor to Flitwick's classroom. He took a ragged breath, clutching his wand so tightly it threatened to snap.

"Lily," he began in a voice that shook, "Lily, I swear-"

"Shh." Lily wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled Severus to her. The sensation of all that was Lily was overwhelming, and nothing else could have calmed him. Her scent. Her hair. Her breath on his neck and the proximity, the perfect, screaming proximity. "Shh, Sev. It's over."

It was a few moments before his muscles began to unclench.

Lily pulled away, both hands on his face, and she peered into his eyes with a limitless gentility, eyebrows knitted together in worry and affection. Severus' pulse had started to slow, but now it was roaring back to its elevated pace. A tiny smile curled at the corner of her lips.

"Don't worry about them," Lily murmured. "They're idiots, Sev. They're not even worth the energy."

"Lily," he whispered, "they have everything. They have everything and-"

"They don't have everything. They have puff and ego and lives of privilege, and they'll never amount to anything. You have so much more."

"What do I have?" Severus asked in a tiny, desperate voice.

"You have the best swelling potion in third year," she responded with no trace of hesitation.

Severus stared at her for a moment. Lily cracked a smile, and then they were both laughing.

"And me," she giggled. "You do have me."

Severus returned her smile in a small and hesitant kind of way. "Promise?"

"Of course I promise."

Lily pulled her friend into a final hug, one he found the audacity to return. He squeezed her tight, imagining she would be his forever, hoping never to let go. But when Lily did pull away, she leaned in and pressed her lips against Severus' pale and pock-marked cheek, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The world dropped out beneath his feet.

"I've gotta run," she said. "Gonna be late to charms. You've got even farther to go than I do, so hurry up! See you at dinner."

And with that, she turned to dash in the same direction the Marauders had gone, bookbag banging against her knees, exactly as she had done hundreds of times before. It was as if she didn't know that everything had suddenly and permanently changed. Like she didn't know what she had done to him, or that he stood rooted in place by shock and by disbelief and by stunning, consuming joy.

Severus never made it to the green houses that day. He didn't mind the ten point deduction Professor Sprout saw fit to give, or even the two scroll makeup essay he would have to find time to compose – High St. John's root or some stupid thing, he didn't know. The rest of the day passed in a blur, and Severus floated through all of it with an expression of faint astonishment. But what did it matter?

He had Lily.

And nothing Potter could say or do would ever take that away.


	2. James & Lily

Lily had been aiming for Head Girl since her first day at Hogwarts. She had worked for it. Sweated for it. Term after term, she had gotten excellent marks, tutored underclassmen, racked up countless house points and demonstrated remarkable moral fiber, whatever that was. It was not as if the position had fallen into her lap unbidden; Lily aimed to excel, and she had earned the distinction. She enjoyed it, too. A natural leader, aching for direction in an uncertain world, Lily found purpose in guiding and protecting her fellow students. It helped her make sense of things.

There were downsides, of course. Leisure time was hard to come by. Her social life was suffering, though she had grown used to that in the past few years. And with NEWTS looming on the horizon and the necessity of rounds in such dangerous times, she was losing more than a little shut eye.

Of course, it might have been easier to manage rounds if James was ever around to make them.

She was running late that night. Peeves had held her up outside of Flitwick's classroom for nearly half an hour, whisking unsuspecting portraits off the walls and dangling them high in the air until their inhabitants wailed for mercy. The sun had just set and a six scroll essay was waiting to be written, so it happened that Lily wanted nothing more than to get through her rounds and get back to the common. With any luck, she could finish her homework and squeeze three or four hours of uninterrupted sleep before dawn.

But Lily would have no luck.

"Hurry up!"

"Calm down. Dissendium."

The whispers were a corridor away, and inwardly, Lily swore in a very unLilylike fashion. The temptation to pretend she hadn't heard a thing, to turn around and call it a night, was briefly overwhelming; mischief would run rampant through Hogwarts whether she was there to thwart it or not. But that was not the sort of Head Girl Lily had set out to be, and so, with a heavy sigh, she held up her head and strode down authoritatively down the hall toward the source of the ruckus.

"Alright, there had better be an awesome reason for breaking cur-"

The Marauders froze like deer in headlights.

Lily's mouth fell open.

Peter, who had been heaving himself through a conspicuous opening in the old witch statue when Lily walked in, lost his grip and tumbled out of sight. A thump and a yelp quickly followed.

"Whoops," said James. "Wormtail, you dead?"

"I'm good!"

"He's good," James assured the others.

Lily sputtered wordlessly, looking from guilty face to guilty face. Remus had the good sense to look abashed, but Sirius couldn't be bothered with anything but undisguised exasperation. James simply grinned. She could have strangled him.

"What," Lily finally managed. "What in the name of – James – explain. Right now."

"Get rid of her, Prongs," Sirius quipped. He pulled himself up to the cavern in the hump as Peter had done before him, albeit with substantially more grace. "You have a knack for sending her running."

James shoved him through the opening in response. By the sound of it, he landed on Peter.

"James Potter, you are Head Boy! Lord only knows why, but you are, and you have responsibilities!" ranted Lily, arms in the air, a creature of pure vengeance. Remus took the opportunity to disappear down the mystery passage, safely out of her range. "The hallways aren't safe and NEWTs are coming up and you're blowing off rounds and leaving them to me, to – to..." she paused, confusion warring for dominance with anger. "What are you doing?"

"Something excellent." James sauntered up, all smiles and sober charm. It made Lily very nervous. He leaned towards her in the most conspiratorial way possible and in a pitched whisper, he asked, "Do you want to see?"

"What? No! I don't – why is there a tunnel in the witch? Was there always a tunnel in the witch?" Confusion was winning.

"Come on," rang Sirius' voice from below.

"James-"

"We're on a bit of an errand, see. An important one. Can you keep a secret?" James asked.

"I don't want to keep your secrets!"

James waited patiently. Through her glare, Lily pursed her lips. She crossed her arms and shifted her weight. The seconds dragged on. James raised his eyebrows.

"Just tell me," she huffed at last.

"Are you sure? Because you don't-"

"Yes!"

He grinned. "I can't tell you. Adventures don't work that way. But if you're feeling brave, I can show you. You need to learn to live a little, Lily. Think you can weather a little bit of adventure?"

Lily pinched the bridge of her nose, a gesture James' presence often seemed to drag out of her. It wasn't that she was a killjoy; in truth, Lily possessed a wild streak to be wary of, and part of her had always wondered what James and his buddies got up to while the rest of them sat around the fire. But she was tired. She had work to do, and it irritated her that James seemed somehow immune to the stress of it all. Could Head Girl give Head Boy detention? She would have to double check the Hogwarts by-laws.

"I have to finish rounds, James."

"We'll do them as soon as you get back," James assured her. "Promise. You're already behind, right? You should have been through here half an hour ago. So it doesn't matter when we finish. Late is late."

"I have a massive essay to write."

"You're the fastest quill in Gryffindor! You need a break, Lily. Come on." His eyes sparked with a wicked and knowing light. "Let me show you something excellent."

Lily stared dubiously. Common sense argued clearly and loudly against listening to any suggestion made by James Potter, particularly while in the throes of breaking an entire litany of school rules, but she was curious. She was so curious. Lily could have stood there fighting it, denying it all night, but it wouldn't change the fact that he had won before the conversation began.

"You're taking rounds tomorrow," Lily muttered, pocketing her wand and making for the hunchbacked witch. James' grin could have powered all of northern Scotland.

He stretched out his arms in an offer to help Lily through, but she brushed him off. Instead, she mimicked what she had seen the Marauders do moments earlier, heaving herself up and contorting her body to slip through the opening. The slide came as a surprise. It was better than a sudden drop, but not by much, and her landing was not a particularly graceful moment. The first three boys stood in a semi-circle, wands lit, staring.

"Really?" Sirius groaned.

Remus managed more civility.

"Hi, Lily," he said, extending a hand to help her up. This aid she gratefully accepted. "You okay?"

"Peachy keen." As soon as she righted herself, James appeared beside her. He managed to do so without falling over. Good for him. "Is this tunnel even safe?"

"No," said Sirius. "It's going to collapse any minute now. It'll kill us all. You should run for it."

James popped him one. A brief scuffle ensued, but they were all soon making their way down the narrow passage in something resembling harmony. Lily was left to wonder what was wrong with the opposite gender.

"I think it's really cool that you're coming with us," Peter was chattering, by her side at a trot. "How did Prongs convince you?"

"I'm not really sure," Lily muttered, and it was the truth.

"Well, Padfoot just lost, like, the biggest bet ever-"

"Wow, Wormtail, why don't you scamper on ahead before I kick your ass so hard you collapse into a singularity?" James suggested cheerfully. Peter decided to take his advice and left Head Boy and Girl to bring up the rear.

"A bet, huh?" Lily asked. James waved it off.

"Wild imagination, that boy. Doesn't know what he's talking about, crazy bets made in fourth year. We try to take care of him."

"I'm sure." Lily eyed him critically, but there was no sense in fussing too much. He'd already gotten her into the bloody tunnel. "Seriously, though, where does this lead? How long have you been doing this?"

"A while," he admitted, sidestepping her first question. "Practically always. You wouldn't believe how many secrets this castle has. Secret passageways, secret rooms, entire towers students never set foot in."

"And you know them all?"

James barked a laugh. "No way. I think we know the place better than any other group of students ever has, but no way. I don't think it's even possible to know it all."

"How have you never been expelled?" Lily marveled.

"Luck and favoritism," he admitted, shooting the girl a sideways smile. "So what do you think, Lily? Is my luck gonna run out tonight?"

"That depends on where you're taking me."

The smile turned into a smirk. It worried her.

The tunnel stretched further than Lily would have expected. For forty minutes they walked, wand light bouncing along ahead of them, footfalls mixing with the jokes, snorts and threats of the boys into a clatter that echoed all around them. James hadn't been kidding when he claimed they had been using these passages for ages. The four of them knew the route so well that Lily suspected they could have gotten there in the dark. She on the other hand had to keep the narrow beam of milky blue light her wand provided fixed on her feet and one hand on the wall. The ground varied so much, sloping up and down seemingly at random, that stumbling was inevitable otherwise.

Eventually, though, Lily was pretty sure she detected a more gradual and consistent upward tilt to the path, and the noise of their procession took on a different quality, as if the walls around them were growing thinner. She began to suspect that they were nearing their destination, but the abrupt dead end still came as something of a surprise.

The Marauders turned to her.

"Uh," she managed.

"You never did tell me if you could keep a secret," James explained.

Lily looked around at her new companions, examining the boys she had grown up with in a more thoughtful way than perhaps she ever had. They seemed inviting enough. Even Sirius, who made no secret of his distaste for her, was regarding Lily with benign humor flickering in his eyes. Something about it was exciting. The inclusion, she supposed. Against her better judgment, Lily could feel herself begin to smile.

"I can keep a secret," she assured them.

"Do you solemnly swear that you are-"

"Don't push it."

"Good enough," Sirius proclaimed. "The ginger's in." He placed his palms flat against the ceiling and shoved; a square of solid rock popped free and light came pouring in. Lily blinked hard, blinded. She could just make out Sirius leading the troops up a squat, narrow staircase and she trailed after them, the last to surface from the darkness.

She found herself in a wide, dusty room, well lit and stacked high with boxes. A staircase hugged the far wall and led to an open through which voices poured. Most of the Marauders were already thundering their way up, and the unmistakable sound of welcome rose from whatever room they had entered.

"I don't get it," Lily said. "Where-"

"Potter!" A familiar voice called out. "You down there, boy? Bring a case of ice mice up with you, alright?"

"Sure thing, Mr. Filligree," James answered. Apparently familiar enough with the room to know its contents, he hoisted up an unmarked box without bothering to check it and gestured for Lily to lead the way. She did, and upon her entrance, nearly laughed out loud.

"Honeydukes?" she asked, incredulous.

"Honeydukes," James agreed. He dumped his box on the front counter and gave an aged shopkeep a friendly smile. "Here y'go, sir. You've met my good friend the lovely Lily Evans, right?"

Lily bobbed her head politely. She had seen the man hundreds of times in passing, of course, but they had never spoken beyond pleasantries and transactions. She didn't expect him to know her from-

"Lily Evans, is that right? You the little girl that's spent the past couple years giving Potter trouble?"

Laughter erupted from Peter, Remus and Sirius, currently engaged in the serious business of stuffing their pockets with sweets. Lily flushed magnificently.

"One and the same," James confirmed.

"Hm." The old man peered at Lily through the thickest glasses she had ever seen. "You are a pretty one, aren't you? Well, good for you. Potter causes enough trouble. He should get as good as he gives."

Lily liked him instantly.

"Standard run tonight, Mr. Filigree," James was telling him.

"Win a match, did you?"

"Getting ready for winning tomorrow." He left a small pile of galleons on the counter. "That ought to cover it all. Keep the change, yeah?"

So that was how Gryffindor was always ready for a celebration. Lily had wondered.

The little shop was more crowded than Lily would have expected at that hour. A handful of witches and wizards milled about, killing time or picking up provisions, and they all seemed to know the Marauders. She had never laid eyes on the shop without the entire student body trying to cram itself inside, though, and was surprised to find it as clean and spacious as it was. She jabbed James playfully in the shoulder.

"All that pomp and mystery and your grand adventure is Honeydukes? A sweets shop?"

"What were you expecting?" James laughed.

"I don't know!" Lily threw her hands in the air. "Somewhere special! Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest or – or something."

"You wanted to go to the Forbidden Forest?"

"No!"

"Because if you want, I can always escort you."

"No." It was her turn to laugh. "No, thank you. This is the big errand you just had to run during rounds, huh?"

He nodded solemnly. "Can't let Gryffindor down. We're hitting Zonko's after this. It's important work, Lily. A matter of morale."

"How did you even find the passage in the first place?"

"Ah, now," said James, "that is a secret for another adventure."

He was intolerable.

Most of their loot wound up stuffed into a satchel Peter clutched. Lily hung back and watched the process; chocolate frogs, treacle fudge, pepper imps, acid pops, chocoballs, the works. In it all went. They seemed determined to clean the place out.

"You want anything special, Lily?" Remus asked. She shook her head politely.

"Prongs is paying," Peter pointed out.

In went an extra package of licorice whips.

By the time they bade Mr. Filligree goodbye and tumbled out of the shop, even Lily was feeling giddy with the pleasure of breaking a rule or two. They were overwarm with laughter, and when a welcome shock of cold night air rolled over their reddened faces, Lily gasped. It was snowing.

This was nothing unusual in Scotland, of course. The first snow had fallen a few days earlier and a thin layer of the stuff already covered most of the grounds. But this, this was picturesque. This was greeting card perfect. Light spilled from the windows of homes and businesses, and while weak, it was light enough to make out the fat, lazy flakes making their way to earth. Though it was early enough for the village to still be busy, most residents were huddling indoors and staying as warm as possible. The result was a sparsely populated street with a deep, muffling silence, like the world had gone still. It was all so untouched. They were visitors on a foreign shore, the first ambassadors to an alien land, the only people left in Britain.

Just the five of them.

The stillness was shattered by the whizz of a compact object sailing through the air and the subsequent splat of impact. James whirled around, snow in his hair. Sirius took off running, but it was too late; the fight was on.

Years later, Lily still wouldn't be able to explain what happened that night. She didn't know who hit her or if it was even intentional – it probably wasn't, as until that moment, none of them would have dared. But regardless of how it happened, Lily Evans took a snootful of snow and Remus was the first thing she saw. There was no hesitation after that. Snowballs flew in every direction, sometimes finding their mark but more often veering off into space, slapping the sides of houses and benches. Their laughter echoed to the castle and back. Some of the little village's residents peeked out of windows and doors, alarmed by the ruckus, but no, it was just the Potter boy and his friends. Hooligans.

Peter and Remus had managed to band together long enough to chase Sirius down the street. Lily took the opportunity to nail James in the nose once, twice, thrice; she had excellent aim. He threw his arms up in defense, backing away from the onslaught.

"Mercy!" he cried. "Truce! Armistice!"

"Do you surrender?"

"Yes, dammit! No more!"

Lily held her fire. She was not without compassion.

James' arms dropped enough for him to peek out at her. They were both a soggy, shivering mess, panting and grinning, and one glance was enough to send them into hysterics. Lily had to lean on her knees to keep herself upright as she laughed. It felt good to laugh. It had been a while.

"Lily Evans," James was wheezing, "I've got to say, I am glad you caught us tonight. You are actually a lot of fun."

"You've never given me a chance to be fun," Lily pointed out.

"Well you never gave me a chance at all."

"Not without cause, James."

"No," he admitted. "I guess not."

For a moment, the pair regarded each other in silence. More than six years they had known each other. History stretched out between them in that narrow street, six years of mistakes and misunderstandings, harsh words spoken in pride and anger; Lily remembered them all. But he had grown. A blind woman could see that the James Potter before her, thumbs hooked into his pockets, snow clinging to his shoulders, this James Potter was a good man. Or he was growing into one, anyway. That counted for something.

"I'm sorry," James said. "I've never really said it, but I am. For everything. I was a dick. I just didn't think everything through, but I was sort of a stupid kid. We took it too far. And I'm sorry."

One side of Lily's mouth tilted into a strange, accepting half-smile, and she nodded. "Yeah. I know you are. It's nice to hear it out loud, though. When did you change so much?"

He shrugged. "There's a war on, you know? We don't have much longer to pretend the world is good and perfect. Someday soon, we'll all have to step up to protect each other. Have to grow up sometime."

"Mm." Some part of the conversation warmed Lily all the way through. She didn't feel the night chill or the snow leaking through her cloak, but neither of them were dressed for reindeer games, and James looked colder than she did. Without thinking, Lily closed the gap between them to dust the snow off his shoulders and out of his hair. A bolt of lightning bounced through them both when her fingertips grazed the back of his neck. Lily was suddenly and horribly aware that she stood hip deep in dangerous territory, as she always did when James got too close; it was like dancing in a minefield every time they spoke.

"So, does this count as our first date?" James asked in a slightly strangled tone of voice.

"Oh no. No. Absolutely not," she breathed. "You'll have to do a whole lot better than this for our first date."

James' eyebrows raised for the second time that night. "Better than a secret tunnel to a magical sweet shop?"

"It's only a date if we're alone, for starters."

Sirius was currently running past, levitating a man-sized snowball in Peter's direction and laughing like a madman.

"Yeah, I can see how that could help," James mused, going so far as to give his chin a thoughtful scratch. "But it seems like a waste of a storybook snowfall, you know?"

Lily did know.

She didn't regret following this boy down the proverbial rabbit hole, and she didn't pull away when he dared to push an errant lock of wet hair away from her face. He was right, of course. Lily hadn't always been entirely fair to him, and the blame belonged to them both. It seemed like an awful lot of time wasted on immaturity and stubbornness. Her heart skipped and beat erratically, joy and fear tumbled through her veins in equal measure and each breath was a wonderful struggle; as big as it felt, as big and dangerous as this moment was, Lily was alive. How much time had she wasted not feeling this way?

It wasn't a total surprise when James bent down to brush his lips over hers. It seemed like the thing to do in that particular moment. What was surprising was the bliss that blew through her, the involuntary smile spreading across her face, the way everything suddenly came into perfect focus. She was a pretty enough girl and she had kissed her fair share of boys, but James was not those boys. Lily was forcibly reminded of the moment she had found her wand; that first incredible pulse of magic running through every inch of her, realizing she had been missing part of herself all her life and now here it was. A perfect match.

When they parted, wonder in their eyes, neither could think of anything to say. James was the first to laugh, and Lily soon followed. What else could they do? He cupped her face and kissed her again, kissed her chin, her forehead, kissed the snow off her eyelashes, anchoring himself to her as if she was the earth itself. That was when Lily knew. She knew right away that this would be her life, and nothing else would ever do. Only this. It was possible one or more of his friends were hooting something obnoxiously lewd, but who cared? They were idiots.

Her idiots, maybe.

"Hey!" An unfamiliar voice barked. The little pack of troublemakers all looked up abruptly. A stout older wizard in a ridiculous blue uniform was glowering at them from across the street. "What in the Blue Isle of Avalon are you kids doing out here? It's not safe these days! You snuck out of the castle, didn't you? I ought to escort you to the Headmaster myself-"

Dragon bogies. Someone had called the constable.

The Zonko's trip would have to wait. As one, the Marauders fled, Lily's hand firmly caught in James'. They were going in a different direction than the way they had come, so Lily supposed they would be returning by a different passage; another secret they would make her privy to. It wasn't so bad, being a Marauder.

"Wait until our first date," James panted. "I'll show you something really wild."

She believed it.


	3. Tonks & Remus

Tonks had been listening to the rain fall on the shingled roof of her parents' house for as long as she could remember. Whether a modest patter or a violent downpour threatening to tear down her father's TV antenna, the sound was distinct and familiar to her, and it was normally comforting. But not that night. That night it was just a distraction, a flimsy veneer spread atop the silence in her room to make it seem less conspicuous. She wanted actual silence or actual noise, one or the other; not this weak-willed, staticy middle ground.

Remus seemed comfortable with it, but that didn't really surprise her.

She wasn't sure how long they'd been sitting there in the dark, unspeaking. Unmoving. Maybe she should have turned on a light, but if Tonks was honest with herself, she didn't really want to see the look on Remus' face. He leaned against her dresser, arms crossed, features obscured by the deepening shadow and monochrome tint Tonks' room seemed to adopt when it was really coming down. She couldn't make out any real detail beyond the tightness of his posture, and it was probably better that way. She doubted he was smiling.

On the opposite side of the room, Tonks herself sat cross-legged on her bed, slumping against the wall it was placed along. Her parents hadn't changed a thing since the day she left home. Her grandmother's quilt was still spread over the bed, cushioning a small army of stuffed animals, while the walls were plastered with posters her 17-year-old self had thought the height of interior design. Books, games and photos lined the shelves, relics from a life that was no longer hers. It seemed strange to be back in the nexus of her girlhood with so many years separating her from the child she had been. Stranger still to be sitting there with a handsome older werewolf, but that was neither here nor there.

No one could accuse Tonks of sainted patience, but she tried. For Remus, she tried. It wasn't in her nature to sit quietly and wait for someone to spit out a simple response, but he needed time to consider every word before he spoke. It made her crazy, but that was Remus, and she accepted it. Valued it, even. Sometimes he took it too far, though, and she imagined them both dying of old age without a single word exchanged, tongues withered from disuse.

"So?" Tonks asked at last.

"So what?" He spoke quietly, as if every word was an imposition. Tonks winced.

"So... what do you have to say?"

"What do you want me to say, Nymphadora?"

She shrugged in the dark. "Something. Anything. Don't just leave me hanging here. I kinda poured my heart out for you, man."

"You do that on a regular basis."

Tonks frowned. A gentleman wouldn't have pointed it out.

She heard him sigh heavily. Not in exasperation or anger, but as a man with the weight of the world bearing down on him. He was tired. "I just don't know what you want from me."

"Some acknowledgment of my feelings would be nice."

"Oh, Nymphadora." His tone softened abruptly, though Tonks suspected it was more out of pity than affection. "I care very much for you, and I'm very flattered-"

"Don't dance around it, Remus," Tonks commanded from her cushioned perch. "I'm in love with you. Don't speak to me like a schoolgirl with a passing fancy. All the times I've saved your sorry skin, I won't put up with it." She tried to sound confident and empowered, like the warrior she knew herself to be, but it sounded more like the directives of a petulant teenager. Remus sometimes had that effect on her, and it was one of the few things she hated about him.

He sighed again but lapsed back into silence. Tonks could have screamed in frustration.

The rain fell harder. The Tonks family home stood near a canal that badly flooded this time of year, and it was already swelling against its banks with the force of late October storms. When she was a little girl, Tonks had sometimes imagined that the canal would overflow and take everything with it. A world-wide flood would start from that very point and, like the rest of civilization, her house would float away, bobbing along like a cork in the bath tub. The flood would carry them all somewhere new, some fantastic island with talking birds and ripe mangoes where she, her family and everyone could start over and do things right. In this flood-born world, her mother wouldn't cry at night; her aunts and uncles would visit and bring presents, girls could marry werewolves and their garden would fare much better than it did in the wet Surrey soil.

Tonks had been a child of considerable imagination.

"You'll move on," Remus finally said.

"No. I won't."

"You're young. You're young and you're lovely. You'll get over this."

"Will you stop telling me how I'm going to feel?" Tonks snapped. "I'm not a bleedin' child, Remus, and I know how I feel. You're just going to have to deal with it."

Abandoning his post at the far side of her room, Remus walked himself over to the bed and, after a brief hesitation, sat gingerly beside his outspoken companion. Her aged mattress sagged and squeaked with the additional weight. A deep and miserable ache ran through every inch of Tonks. The closer he was, the more it hurt.

"I'm sorry," said Remus. "I don't mean to condescend to you. I don't have much practice speaking to young women."

"Speaking to us like normal people seems to work well."

Sitting so much closer, Tonks could better make out Remus' expression. He smiled and dropped his eyes to the floor, avoiding her gaze as he so often did. She ran a hand through her hair in aggravation.

"You didn't like fairy tales very much as a child, did you?" he asked suddenly. Tonks looked over, confused.

"No, actually. I loved them. Why?"

"Then you didn't pay very close attention. Cavorting with the wolf never worked out very well for anyone."

Tonks snorted a laugh, surprising them both.

"Remus Lupin, did you just reference Little Red Riding Hood in a serious argument?" He turned a rueful smile to her and Tonks gave him an affectionate shove. "You loser. That's a loser thing to say."

"What about you?" Feeling bold, Remus reached over and tugged on a lock of Tonks' hair, dull in the blue-gray darkness. It hadn't changed color in months. "Is this your way of punishing me? Condemning yourself to boring hair?"

"Don't flatter yourself." Tonks tucked the lock huffily back behind her ear. "If I could control it, I would. I haven't had trouble controlling the changes since I was seven years old, Remus. I'm sick of it."

He smiled again, more sadly. Tonks heaved a sigh of her own and leaned against him. He didn't pull away.

Molly often asked why it was she was so fixated on the Tortured Mr. Lupin when younger, friendlier boys abounded, and Tonks had a hard time responding. How could she explain? It wasn't so much chemistry, although they had plenty of that, or his overabundance of excellent qualities, although he had lots of them. It wasn't even the pressure of the war driving her to do stupid things while she still had the chance. She was stuck on Remus because of the way they fit together. Battle after battle they'd fought, mission after mission, and in the aftermath, when she leaned on him, he held her up. They were sharing strength, and it worked because they fit together like interlocking puzzle pieces. That wasn't something you walked away from because it came with complications. That was something you fought for.

"I'm not giving up," Tonks told him.

"You should."

"But I won't. You know I won't."

"I am a werewolf." He sounded exasperated. "You don't make a lover out of a werewolf. It's too dangerous."

"Do you respect me?"

Remus turned around, looking insulted. Or, no, worse. He looked hurt. "Of course I do. How can you ask me that?"

"Do you respect my decision to fight in this war, knowing the probable consequences?" she pressed. "I mean, we're all here of our own free will, right? You respect my choice to take the risk?"

He groaned. "Yes, Nymphadora, I do, but that is a completely different situation."

"It's not!" Tonks argued. "It's one thing if you aren't interested, yes, but it's another if you're just running. I won't stand for it, Remus. I won't. You don't get to tell me who to love or what risks to take. But if you can look me in the eye and say you don't love me, I'll never bring it up again. Never." Tonks fixed him with the full and frightening power of her single-minded gaze. "Tell me you don't love me."

Several times Remus opened his mouth and several times he closed it again, whatever argument or declaration of denial he was going to use dying stillborn on his tongue. Finally he simply sat back and looked at the little Auror with a plaintive expression. She returned it with one of mixed satisfaction and awe.

"I knew it," she murmured.

"It changes nothing," said Remus.

"It changes everything!" Tonks leapt from her bed, shot through with wild energy and the conviction of ten. "Remus, we're in love! How does this not matter to you?"

"I never said it didn't matter, but-"

"But nothing! We're living on the edge of the end of everything, using my bedroom as a safe house in between patrols, which is super awkward, by the way, and we're wasting time on what if scenarios? Do you know how mad that sounds?" Her eyes were wider than Remus had ever seen them, and a note of desperation rang in her voice. "Remus, if I die tonight, if I die and you live, don't you think you'll regret staring at me like a wooden plank instead of being a man and going for it?"

"That won't happen," said Remus through gritted teeth.

"Why not?"

"Because I won't let it!" he exploded. Tonks jumped. She had never heard him shout before. "You are the only person I know that hasn't been ruined by this shit, Dora! You are whole and strong and beautiful, and you aren't going to die, so just come off it!"

For a moment, neither of them knew what to say. Remus had bolted to his feet and he glared at her now, the strangest glare Tonks had ever seen – some unsafe mix of anger, certitude, adoration and fear. It struck her speechless.

Before Tonks could recover, buckled boots began thundering up the staircase. She whirled as her bedroom door flew open; in the doorway stood old Elphias Doge, weathered face taut with worry. He had made himself scarce when Tonks had decided she and Remus needed to have a word, probably having tea with her mother.

"Shacklebolt just sent a call for backup," he informed them. "Death eaters are attacking a muggle concert in southern Piccadilly. Probably just having a spot of fun, but there's too many for the southern garrison to put it down."

"We're going to finish this conversation," Tonks informed Remus as they tore out of the room.

They brushed past Doge to fly down the staircase and swing on their cloaks, battle song already humming through their veins. But before she did anything, Tonks bolted into the sitting room, site of her mother's favorite chair to worry in, and wrapped herself around Andromeda's skinny shoulders to press a kiss into her hair. She never left without a kiss for her mother.

"Be careful, baby," Andromeda implored her daughter, returning the embrace with a tearful ferocity. Her eyes turned to Remus, never more than a few steps behind. "Watch out for her. Please."

He nodded.

Tonks considered arguing the assumption that she needed a baby-sitter, but decided against it. Instead, she whispered love for her mother and backed away to apparate with her two companions. With three mighty cracks, Andromeda was alone in an empty house.

By the time they arrived, the fight was already in full swing. The rain had stopped in London, but the air was thick and humid, laced with the stench of gore. Dead and injured muggles littered the venue grounds. Any that were capable of escape had long since bolted, and it was now a wrestling match between wizards. Tonks counted twenty, maybe twenty-five Death Eaters, all masked, hooting and hollering and having a fabulous time of it. This was entertainment for them. Fury bubbled in Tonks' blood.

She, Remus and Doge must have been the first responders, because it looked like Shacklebolt's unit was trying to fend the villains off single-handedly. The three of them raced forward to take formation, wands out, magic on their lips.

Things always seemed to speed up in battle. Curses flew too fast to keep up with, so a considerable chunk of Tonks' mind went straight to autopilot. She was only too happy to let two years of Auror training and natural instinct guide her through the morass of the fight. Loud pops all over the battlefield told her that other Order members were showing up in force; with any luck, the skirmish would break up as soon as enough reinforcements arrived to make it not worth the fuss. Tonks began to relax. They'd all be home before dinner.

A pair of Death Eaters flanked Tonks from one side. She spun, shielding herself and the allies behind her. A counter curse sent the assailants flying through the air, bloodied enough to warrant retreat. A second wave of opponents made maintaining the offense a more complicated matter and ranks began to separate, but no matter. Tonks turned to face a single Death Eater bearing down on her. She could handle a solitary opponent.

Unless, of course, God-given clumsiness tripped her over her own cloak.

She landed hard on the pavement, scraping her cheek, wand clattering out of her hand. The action that had been tearing along in fast motion abruptly dropped to a crawl; Tonks could see everything before it happened, felt it all in exquisite detail, but could do nothing to stop it. When she twisted back to look at her attacker, his wand was raised. It cut a graceful arc through the muggy night air. He bellowed out the incantation of the killing curse and Tonks' vision exploded with green light.

He missed.

Tonks blinked. An excessively well-timed curse had stunned the Death Eater and sent him crashing to the ground beside her. Thirty feet away, wand raised, Remus looked angrier than she had ever seen him. A scorch mark decorated the asphalt not six inches from her head. Her life had been saved by a matter of milliseconds.

Snatching her wand, Tonks immobilized the dark wizard with shaking hands. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Pushing herself uncertainly to her feet, she locked eyes with her savior across the battlefield. He trembled with rage. 

Without a single thought as to why, Tonks took off like a shot. She sprinted the length of the distance between them, dodging curses and jumping bodies as if she had no fear. She grabbed Remus by the wrist and dragged him behind some overhanging rubble, a pitiful suggestion of cover that offered little actual protection.

He began to ask if she was okay, but Tonks didn't give him the chance. Without a word, she threw herself into a kiss – their first kiss, soul-searching and hot, hesitant and desperate. Remus went rigid with astonishment but didn't push her away, too shocked to move or too polite to reject her, Tonks wasn't sure which. She didn't care.

Tonks pulled away with triumph in her eyes.

"You're welcome," Remus said, sounding faint.

"Look," she growled, yanking him down to eye level. "You say I'm gonna live? Fine. Then I'm not living a single minute more without you."

Somehow, that was all it took. Remus stared at Tonks for one stunned, searching moment, and something in him snapped. He pulled her close and kissed her with hunger, with need and with joy, smelling of blood and tasting of fire. He kissed her like an ancient priest worshiping his idol; like he had waited eons for a single moment of screaming wartime glory. They clawed at each other, hands in hair, bodies bolted together, curses shooting past them in a brilliant crossfire. Exultation swept through Tonks. If she had known a near-death experience was the trick to destroy his iron-clad self-control, she would have toppled over in battle much earlier.

"Children!" rang out the familiar voice of Molly Weasley. When had she arrived? "I'm very happy for you, as I'm sure we all are, but there is a time and place!"

Tonks broke contact, paused, dove in for one more kiss and spun to get back to work. She felt invincible. She fought like a holy goddess, light in her eyes and certainty in every spell. Death Eaters turned tail and ran from her, and though the battle raged noisily around them, she could hear Remus laughing as she plunged back into the fray; her hair had somehow morphed into a halo of wild pink curls.

It wouldn't last, of course.

One inexplicable moment of grace wasn't enough to sway the werewolf's mind. They left that torn little crater of London in a haze of love, but it wasn't long before Remus would sober up. Tonks would rage, bargain, plead, reason and weep for months to come, but it would do her no good. Not until the Battle of the Astonomy Tower would Remus find the strength to follow wherever it was she intended to lead them. But as Andromeda would one day remark to her wide-eyed grandson, Tonks' patronus was never quite the same after the skirmish in Piccadilly.

"What's that mean, Gram?" Teddy would ask.

"It means your father was Dora's best memory," was her gentle reply.

So Teddy smiled, because that made perfect sense.


End file.
